The pain is real, but the decision is right

This article was first published in our recent Social Issues Bulletin – Issue 57 which is available to download here.

Dying with faith and dignity

A couple of years ago, I witnessed my mother’s death. It was a slow decline, caused by old age and a gradual shutting down of desire and function. My father had died decades earlier – his was the first dead body I had ever seen. As I write this, we are attending to my father-in-law during the final days of his life, as he surrenders to cancer. His daughters and wife sit at his bedside, holding his hand, speaking, praying, and singing hymns. The hospice nurses call in regularly with great care and discretion. For him, there is physical pain and a struggle to comprehend and cope with what is happening.

Both these parents had what might be described as fulfilled lives, blessed with jobs, holidays, homes, and families – including great-grandchildren they were able to hold in their arms. Good memories. And they had faith in Christ that shaped their lives and gave them hope.

So, what is there left to do in those final weeks? Not much, really, except to die.

Why can’t we save ourselves and our loved ones a lot of anguish and allow them to die, apparently with dignity, at a time of their choosing? Why don’t we advocate for legal changes to enable us to make such choices? Why do we have to wait until the natural end?

My answer is a firm no! We don’t want to do that because we love God, and we love people. We don’t want to dishonour God or harm others.

God gives life and dignity. The Creator bestows value upon every man and woman as beings made in his image, and so we should not take our own lives or anyone else’s (Gen 9:6). That image is not about physical or even mental capacities. My suffering father-in-law, lying emaciated on a hospital bed at home with shallow breaths, still possesses 100% of the dignity inherent in being made in the image of God. It’s not about what we can do but about who we are.

Because I believe in the goodness of God but also the reality of sin, I recognise there are blessings in experiencing or witnessing the process of dying. We learn lessons of dependence on God, our own weaknesses, and the horror of sin and its far-reaching consequences. We’re not meant to think of death as good, but that’s the point. If we take away all the pain and turn it into a painless clinical procedure, we dull our senses. And we lose precious moments – not of our choosing but thrust upon us – moments that help us confront our mortality and remind us of our lack of control. In those moments, we run in faith to the Sovereign Lord, our heavenly Father.

An unbearable weight

Just imagine for a moment there is a new law enabling assisted suicide for someone with a terminal diagnosis.

This presents the family with an unbearable weight. The question will hang in the air from the moment that diagnosis is given: Who will raise the subject? Who will decide? Do they really have the capacity to make that choice? What if family members don’t agree? How will they feel as the bills for care mount up while a shortcut to the Grim Reaper is available? The potential for family division and tragic outcomes is enormous.

And what about the doctors and nurses? Their roles would fundamentally shift, from wanting you to be alive and comfortable to a dual role of healer and executioner. One day, they bring comfort; the next, they advise on administering poison. The visiting doctor ponders how many more visits he can fit into his busy schedule before the family caves in and takes the pill. Hospice nurses do their best to remain positive, all the while wondering when they’ll be asked for that extra dose in the syringe driver to ‘get this over with’. Their jobs have changed irreversibly.

Choosing to live through dying

So we wait patiently. We accept that our loved ones are beyond restorative treatment. We seek to bring calmness and comfort through all available medical means, especially through the presence of loved ones.

And however painful and inconvenient, we live through dying.